As I’m rousing, I hear a private telepathic thought in soft, sad voices admitting, “We, we didn’t know if you’d want us here when you woke up. If you were ready for us to ask forgiveness.”

I sigh as tears well in my eyes. I don’t want them to have to ask for forgiveness. That’s half the issue here. The telepathic voices concur, “Yeah, we know, but we’re going to ask all the same, because after all we’ve been through, having hurt you is tearing us up inside.”

It isn’t fair that they’re so hurt from hurting me. I probably shouldn’t feel that way about it, since I’d be equally begging forgiveness to mend my wounded heart and make it up to them if I’d hurt them. I think most of all to mend their hurts. Maybe that should be—. The voice interrupts, “You’re right, we should be apologizing for you, not for us. We’re sorry Air, we love you. Te had me doing the talking, but we both feel the same. We’ll give you as much space as you need. We both miss you already though. Sorry, that was selfish to add.”

My lower jaw quivers as tears flow freely. I almost beg for her not to leave me. I need help to get through this, and I don’t know anyone that can help. Lu, Te, please don’t give me any more space. Please. Please come back.

A stream of tears cascades openly down my face, and I’m unsure if my telepathic message, my desire was even carried to them, or if they are too hurt to be riding my thoughtwaves. Lu? Te?

Trying to distract myself, to prevent myself from wailing in despair, I cast all my senses about, trying to get my bearings. I can feel that Kinzul helped suppress my dragonforce, to keep it from spending itself to aid in my recovery. There are at least a dozen beds, all of which are filled with Draconiacs and kobolds with bandaged torsos, or even perhaps a human-formed dragon or two. They’re mostly groaning in pain, and shifting to try to find comfortable positions. Well, almost all of the beds are filled thusly. Sharing a single bed, Luni and Teuila seem to have wept themselves to sleep, between the pain, and the worry for me.

Lucky groans from below me on the floor, his chest is also heavily bandaged. I don’t know if I could take it if my senses move out further to find Kinzul or Lil with bandaged torsos. Or—. One of the Draconiacs is Errissa. No. No. I can’t, not right now. My breath catches in my throat, and my pulse races. Somehow she picks up on the change in my condition, despite me not having moved, and only having been analyzing my silent sonar.

Errissa brings a pillow from her bed, and places it over my face. I’m not so injured that I’d suffocate and go without a fight. I also don’t need to worry, because I’ve still got the neckchain of the ever breathing on. It’s still disconcerting, until I realize what she’s doing. She pulls up a stool and sits next to me, holding one of my hands. She covered my face so that our eyes don’t meet, so that I don’t visually obsess over her, and, from how she’s taking my hand, some subtext in the subtle variations of her movements, it’s entirely for my benefit. She didn’t sashay when she came over for one.

I’d wonder if perhaps, after seeing me so vulnerable, that she’d lost interest in continuing our earlier experiences. Yet she brings her head down to rest upon my left shoulder, and places her right hand tenderly, gingerly on my chest as she holds my left hand with hers.

My breathing and pulse quicken slightly, but not as badly as when I’m obsessively overexcited by her. Errissa picks up on whatever subtle cues my body gives off, and her soft, scaled lips curl upward, pleased at the reaction she brings me. I find myself touched that she enjoys the mild hint of my excitement at our contact without it being overblown. It certainly feels like there’s substantive attraction going both ways. Though, it may just be curiosity on her part.

Heck, the cynical part of me reminds me that her Alias is Spymaster. It reminds me that she could be trying to pick me apart for weaknesses, to figure out how I sensed her, how I can sometimes sense and locate her, in order to be able to combat it. It reminds me that she left me crumpled on the floor, bleeding, after we were attacked. Some part of her had a thought, and she had to shake it off. Was that thought that I might be vulnerable enough to be finished off? Or worse, was it that she wanted to rush to my aid, but fought back the impulse, to stay true to some mission she’d given herself about me?

If I could shush the cynic in me, I would try to do it by suggesting that perhaps she’d been worried, wanting to come to my aid, but with her acute senses, could tell I was in no danger of dying. Perhaps her duty to secure the area came first, in some way, still keeping me safe regardless. Plus, she’s here, with bandaged ribs. Unless she snuck in, and bound herself in bandages, to pretend to have been one of the volunteers, Errissa was concerned enough about me to take on physical pain, and injury.

Also, as I’d feared, Lady Kinzul is walking with her hand resting her bottom right rib, the exact location where I’d taken the most damage over the last few days. Apparently, it wouldn’t do to have her sporting the bandages that prove she’s injured, and took on an injury for my sake. I assume Lil is then either one of these humanoid bodies, or nearby, in his dragon form.

I can sense Kinzul and Errissa staring at each other, somehow wordlessly communicating, despite not yet having had a telepathic bond set up. Errissa removes her head from my shoulder, and offers a frown to our Lady. Spymaster glances at the pillow, and pouts, as she removes it from my face. I can sense that she’d be gone the instant it left my face, for my benefit, but I squeeze her left hand with mine as I squeeze my eyes shut enough that she understands that I don’t want her to leave, even if it’s going to get awkward.

I open my eyes, and let them drift towards her, and as one might expect, I inhale sharply, caught by her beauty. Our gazes meet, and linger. The shifting, swirling, liquid mercury of her eyes is a vivid panorama of a stormy sea of that purest of metals, silver. Her slate-gray, soft, smooth scales, on her adorably rounded-to-a-point face tug slightly tighter as her expression shifts in concern, as she fights an obvious hint of amusement for my benefit. I dare not let my gaze drift lower, to see her vulnerable without the supple leathers that have always otherwise adorned her torso and the rest of her splendid, serpentine form.

My head vibrates in an impossibly minuscule tremor like that of an overexerted muscle on a microscopic scale. Errissa’s brow furrows in concern, somehow picking up this infinitesimally small motion. I work to keep my mind from hanging on every feature of her face, and blush only the mildest amount. She flicks one brow raised as a question posed, and I know the best way to answer. When I smile broadly at her, still meeting her gaze, she allows her smile to tug back fully, crinkling the edges of her eyes in delight.

Lady Kinzul telepathically comments, “You two do seem to have an understanding of each other, that I thought you might not come to possess, while under the effects of the obsession. Yet you are still smitten by that magic, and there is obvious joy shared between the two of you, even as you war internally. I am pleased that you nourish joy so freely Schism. This is not a side of our Spymaster I’d ever assumed I’d see, thus far. Especially with that which transpired before her joining us.”

I find it difficult to believe that one as entrancing as Errissa would go any length of time without finding someone to share this sort of joy with, if she were interested. The cynic in me returns to the idea that this could be, must be a ploy. Why now? Why me? She can make her appearance known to her allies, and does. I’ve observed that she knows she’s attractive in the extreme, and she’s not at all shy about flaunting it. Certainly other allies, friends, must have been interested, and pursued her. Or, lacking that, she could have revealed herself to one that she found endearing, and pursued them.

I hate the cynic in me, because it skipped over something, “Especially with that which transpired before her joining us.” To quote Kinzul. I suppose, it’s equally ominous, and heart-wrenching. When my gaze towards Errissa softens towards sympathy, her features slide towards a frown, and she shoots a glare towards Kinzul, catching on quite quickly, even if Kinzul hadn’t actually told me anything. Errissa doesn’t want me to know about her past I take it?

Lady Kinzul’s telepathic response is only, “It would seem so.”

My senses begin to reorient, the longer I’m conscious, affording me more accurate details, or perhaps my brain unfogs, letting me analyze those details better. Wait, is that Iylynila over there? And Veril? And Xayla? Oh no, that’s horrible!

Our Lady wears a grim half smile as she offers up, “You appeared to have made friends and allies who care about your wellbeing Schism. Enjoy it. Take pride. Nourish the bonds. Do not push them away or shun them for this act of kindness, this minor sacrifice they perform. Win the war within yourself, to let yourself be loved.”

I manage to tear my gaze away from Errissa to look towards Kinzul. Trying to keep my sigh from appearing as anything other than a necessary exhalation, I try to take in the features of our leader, to read her state. We’d had a disaster, possibly have less than useful intelligence gained from it, and lost two lives. Two beings whom I never even knew the name of. It happened far too coincidentally exactly when we were deeply embroiled in our interrogation. I can see that she concludes the same. For enemies to be so deep within her domain, they have to be getting help from our own allies.

Lady Kinzul surprises me, only slightly, by telepathically uttering, “Jorro, and Lihjro.”

I’m not at all surprised that our Lady would memorize the names of all who volunteer for the Order, or possibly even all those protected under her banner. The only surprise was that she spoke during my train of thought, breaking it.

I let my gaze drift around the room, recognizing Iylynila nursing her torso, Luni and Teuila asleep in a single bed, cuddled together nearest me, both with pained expressions on their faces, and the odd, lanky form that is Xayla. I’m sure Ixeyla is going to be pissed off about that, since I basically literally hurt her sibling physically.

I sigh while shaking my head incredulously at myself and my own random, useless trains of thought. My gaze settles back on Errissa, who offers me a warm smile, and though I gulp in mild apprehension fighting to keep myself from soaking in her physical appearance below her upturned lips, I’m able to return that smile genuinely. I hadn’t even noticed that Errissa’s lithe, tapered, whip-like tail has curled several times around my left forearm, near my wrist. Gazing upon it, she quickly begins to retract it, and I reach out too slowly to stop the tail before it’s gone, removed from its oddly heartwarming coiled perch. I gaze at my own wrist and touch the spot where it’d been, my expression sleepy, and somewhat sad.

I can sense the hesitant smile that crosses Errissa’s face when she sees where I’m gazing, and what I’m contemplating. Sadly, following from there, my gaze travels across her delicate hand, up her lithe, well-toned bare-scaled forearm and bicep. From there my heart rate begins to pick up, and my breathing shallows slightly as my eyes trace her collarbone, the v of her ribcage, and the surprising pectoral region that is covered in bandages, with more than a hint of a yielding suppleness to--. I gulp and frown at myself as blood rushes to my head. The pressure builds above my mandibular joints. It’s not entirely painful, but it’s enough that I’m beginning to lose consciousness again.

I yearn to pull Errissa into the bed I’m resting upon in this infirmary, even just to hold her tightly as I pass out in recovery. There are other yearnings, more desires, but I’m denied even so much as the ability to offer her an embrace. As I’m losing consciousness, her tail coils tenderly around my wrist again, and a neutral-yet-content seeming expression falls upon her face.

I awaken to someone holding my hand, whispering, “Psst!”

At first, I thought perhaps it would be Spymaster, but she’s entirely mute. Blearily rubbing my eyes with my free hand, I glance towards the face that’s altogether too close, shoving a mass of curly locks into my face, hair that I’m half-grinding into my eyes as I try to rub sleep from them.

Xayla begins to reiterate their whisper, but spies my wakefulness. They instead ask hesitantly, “You okay? Lady said, tomorrow. Bond?”

I nod to both questions, flexing my jaw as I try to stretch out the pained mandibular muscles, and Xayla says one last thing before I can speak, “Okay. I’ll go now. Tomorrow. Thanks.”

I don’t have the energy to complain, chase after them, or formulate any sort of response really. I let myself fall back to sleep, surprised that Xayla was the only one to wake up. It makes me wonder if Sponge can dole out different percentages of—. Kinzul was here. Kinzul could facilitate and administrate such a use of one’s Latent. Kinzul likely didn’t want Xayla to bear as much pain, or as much of the burden, yet wanted to let them still act as part of the communal effort. Back to unconsciousness I go. I can tell it has only been a few minutes each time I’ve awoken, so it’s still sometime between late morning, and early evening, of the twentieth.

This time, there’s a hand on my shoulder, and a different face near mine as I find myself rousing yet again to another, “Psst!”

I sigh, and then feel rude for having done so, because it wasn’t exasperation with anyone in particular, and I yawn immediately after sighing anyway. Iylynyla’s face is beaming at me in a way that can only mean one thing. I’m not sure how well I can handle it right now.

Illy jokes in hushed tones, sure not to wake the others, “I hear it came pretty close to me having to call you pops!”

I—. For the briefest moment, I want to correct her from using a gendered pronoun, but I honestly don’t know what you’d replace it with in this particular joke. I chuckle, almost silently, and a smile spreads wide across my face. This sort of teasing should trigger a backslide if I’m still in the throes of self-loathing, but instead, my smile is full of humor, and joy at the lighthearted nature of Illy’s teasing. I’ve broken through, and come out on the other side, though I’m dangerously close to the precipice. I need my support network to help stabilize me, ground me, anchor me.

Still, I respond with an eyeroll and a jovial intentionally overplayed denial, “Nah, nothin’ happened, tooootally no such thing. Never coulda happened.” I then add conspiratorially with a smirk, my face right up against hers, “Or could it?”

Illy slugs my shoulder gently, playfully. She’s fighting to keep her laughter silent as she says, “Way I hear it, came reeeeeal close. Maybe you’ll land your Lady next time Schism.”

I snort a laugh and bite down on my lips as my cheeks puff with further laughter. More seriously, she asks, “Would you really have? To save her, if something happened, that that could save her from?”

I nod quickly in response, “Absolutely, how could I not? I love her in ways I still haven’t found boxes or words for, and trust me, I’ve got a lot of boxes, and a lot of words.”

It’s Illy’s time to snort a laugh as she playfully slugs my shoulder again. She glances around at the rest of the sleeping patients, leans over, and kisses my cheek, intentionally tantalizingly close to my lips, intentionally my right cheek so that she has to lean across half my body to do it. Her lean exposes her incredible, midnight-sky-toned cleavage, resting it very near my face. I’m almost annoyed enough at that tease to turn my head and steal a kiss from her lips. I’d feel horrible afterwards though. I flash her a frown and a dubious glance, but she offers me a shrug and a smile in response.

I guess I should just take it for what it is, harmless, flirty fun, that she knows I enjoy. Maybe they’ll all stop if I can condition myself to react less to such things. Though my reactions are conditioned based on some stupid Fakeworld memory crap that I have no control over, and no context for. I shouldn’t be flustered about cleavage, or kisses, or anything. I come from Can’Z’aas! I’m digital critterkin adjacent! I don’t even have most organs in real space, but rather, a weird amalgamation of digital space that matter is teleported to and from. I don’t have reproductive biology at all. I think I’m more pissed off at the stupid Fakeworld memories intruding on what could be innocent, playful affection, with implications of reproductive and mating habits.

I’m very close to teetering into a backslide, so I try to center myself. I shoot Illy a questioning glare to let her know to consider her next action carefully as I state, “I dare you to do that again.”

She reads my meaning, and knows that I would react this time, with some form of affection she might not know if she’s ready for. My challenge and query are a matter of consent, and I honestly don’t want her to take me up on it, at least, not right at this moment, while I’m in this headspace. Thankfully Illy relents, “Sorry Schism. Maybe tomorrow? I hear I should prepare for a whole heap of awkward. I hope you’re feeling better by then. Really. Not just your ribs. Feel better Schism.”

Iylynila kisses her index and middle fingers, and presses them to my forehead before she begins to back away while wearing a thoughtful expression. I can see her mind considering exactly what she just passed up, and what she had allowed herself to allude to. There’s genuine remorse, and apology crossing her mind, at having teased me. Did Teuila tell her what happened yet? I don’t think she would have been so brazen if Te had.

How much of my injury did Kinzul and Sponge let Te and Luni take on? I’m anxious now, breathing fretfully, wishing for them to wake up, to be able to mend their hurts in more ways than one. As I’m pondering this, and perhaps looking a bit like I’m hyperventilating, Veril appears to have roused, and is approaching.

Veril whispers a call, “Hey Schism. Don’t mind Illy. I think she just caught on to something after. Not sure what, didn’t see what she said or did. Was waking up when she left, but that’s how she looks when she’s sorry. Whatever she did, I hope you forgive her. I look forward to fighting alongside you soon. Get better, okay Schism?”

I nod appreciatively towards Veril. I’d already concluded pretty much the same thing. Sighing, and trying to still my breathing, I try to will myself to pass back out until Luni and Teuila wake up. No such luck, but I am pleasantly surprised at who returns to keep me company, as her tail snakes softly around my wrist.

I flash a half smile up at the hooded, robed figure, whose shining silver eyes sparkle in the shroud of shadow. The corners of her eyelids crinkle in joy as our gazes meet. She sits, and takes my hand, but the way she turns affords me little view of anything save one hand, and the tip of her tail. They’re still wonderful sights to gaze upon, but much easier to keep from obsessing over.

My heart skips a few beats at the comfort, but finally slows to an acceptable level, and my breathing calms to a pleasant rhythm. I can feel the pulse within Errissa’s wrist, and vaguely in her tail, which surprises me in two, perhaps three ways. One, that I’m picking up such faint sensory vibrations while in my current state, and two, the fact that she, as a reptile, gives off these vibrations, since I don’t know how reptilian circulation systems work, and three, that her heart rate is in a state of excitement. Is this the natural speed of her heart? Still, despite my curiosity, I find myself passing out yet again.

As I begin to rouse, I hear Te asking Lu, “Should— should we go? Do they not want us here when they—,“ Teuila gasps as she senses my internal monologue noticing her presence and she quickly begs, “Air, Air I’m so sorry. Please, please forgive me. I know you said you didn’t stop forgiving me for the whammy, but I’m so sorry for that, and the teasing, and not noticing, and, and so much.”

I gulp back a frog in my throat that’s appeared all of a sudden, as my right eye mists up heavily. I start, “I—, I kind of needed you guys, and I shut you out. It was an absolute mess. It was a nightmare. I hate that I did that to you. I hate that my response was so disproportionate and over the top. I hate that I started to self loathe, and then started to resent you two for putting me in a position where I felt I needed to self loathe. Wait, hold on. But that was all intrusive thoughts, all illogical responses that set the situation rolling the way it did. I love you both, to the ends of every world available and beyond. Forever. I was hurt, and I overreacted. I’m sorry for how I reacted, and even sorry for how I felt. If it’s within my responsibility or power to absolve you, to forgive you, I do, you are. I just want us to ground ourselves in the joy of togetherness. We’ve been apart too long.”

Interrupting my apology, Lady Kinzul asks me in a private telepathic wavelength, “Would you like a modicum of juvenile retaliation?”

I want to be mature enough to immediately say no, but I don’t stop Kinzul as she elaborates, “We could, if it still stands, carry through on your offer, and insist that it was the light you were made to look at me in, by your two beloveds, that brought about our engagement.”

I have to bite my lips in reality, and I fight to keep my puffed cheeks from revealing anything more about my mental state as Lu and Te plead for forgiveness next to me. It’s so hard not to laugh at the fact that Kinzul, one of the eldest beings, if not the eldest being alive on the planet, asked if I wanted comical, drama-inducing juvenile revenge.

Careful to measure my response, I renegotiate, “The offer itself still stands, but only for the opportunity to attempt to meld your soul into the Shellcracker clan. I could never do that to them, or use you for something so—.”

Kinzul’s smile reaches me telepathically as she responds, “Good, I’d hoped you would return to feeling such a way. I trust you feel more like yourself then?”

I’m a bit flummoxed on how to answer, because Kinzul’s response came off like she was testing me. Yet now my heart and mind are running away with the implications that her response to my offer still standing was the word good. I’m going to take the mirth in the undertones of her emotional state to mean she finds it humorous that I’m chasing the implication. Still, it’s a heck of an implication. Kinzul offers no more words on the matter, leaving me to stew on that after dropping the private wavelength.

There were hints at Kinzul finding it humorous, like a tease. I wonder if she’s trying to make certain that she’s the target of my ire if I backslide? Or, could she really, possibly be implying that we should marry, and she simply found the idea some combination of mirth-inducing, and practical? I mean, she asked me if the offer stood, I said yes, she said good. I don’t dislike the idea of being married to her. She’s amazing. Wait. I’m not in a private thinkspace with her anymore. Crap.

Blushing, my telepathic avatar manifests in our shared thinkspace, scratching the back of its head, with its eyes downcast. Luni and Teuila’s avatars show up, both looking a bit stunned.

Luni breaks the silence, delivering, “I, kinda always thought it would be one of us, Te, or me, but probably Te, if you ever decided to go that route. Kinzul really thinks you should get married?”

I try not to groan in response, knowing exactly how my internal monologue likely sounded as I dropped back out of Kinzul’s private wavelength. I start, “It’s not what it sounds like. I think. If we do get married, it would just be so that she could possibly become a Shellcracker, and hopefully be part of the system, so that the Shellcracker soulbound equipment could be used by her. A lot of our magical Can’Z’aasian equipment is soulbound, or soulbinds on being picked up or equipped for the first time.”

Luni pouts, but Teuila asks, “You wanted us to like, work on togetherness, just enjoying now, right? I’m, I’m still me, can I tease you? I don’t know where we stand. Teasing, it’s—.”

I know teasing is an integral part of Teuila’s method of communication. I nod towards Teuila, because her telepathic avatar’s eyes are welling with tears, and she need not explain, or fight through the emotions.

Teuila sniffles, and looses a sad, burbly, snot-filled laugh, as she tries, “Okay, just, just pretend I said this right away. Suuuure it is Airhead. Just for loot, Riiiight.”

I snort, and snicker a short laugh as my smile creeps higher up my face. Shaking my head incredulously, I roll my eyes at Teuila. I tease, “Obviously your timing on your delivery could use some work babe.”

Teuila, still laughing snot bubbles as she works through tears, references one of our earlier conversations by offering, “Screw you babe, hehe.”

Teuila’s smile spreads wide until her eyes can’t remain open as she’s sounding her glee. Luni looks a little perplexed that Te is so happy after that comment, but she shrugs then stands demurely facing me, avoiding eye contact.

My avatar approaches Luni’s, and I don’t know what to say. Lu still looks heartbroken. I want to absolve her, I want her forgiveness, I want to forget this ever happened, but most of all, I just want to see her smile. I want her to be happy more than any of it. My eyes flood with tears, terrified of the idea that at some point in my life, it might be the last time I ever see Luni smile again. I don’t want us to reach such an event, ever.

Luni sniffles as her telepathic avatar wraps its arms around mine, muttering, “Oh Air, Reggie. I’ll never stop smiling for you. Never.”

The three of us fight through some snot-burbly laughter as we continue to cry together in alternating seasons of glee and sadness. We essentially become one another’s emotional sponges, soaking up and releasing the same emotions back and forth in waves. This morning has been far, far, far too intense. I need a much more relaxed rest of the day. I’m not sure if I can get that relaxation here in the infirmary. I should go see if I can convince Nala to come check out the Shellcracker shop stall.

Luni snorts before she starts madly giggling, and Teuila shakes her head while saying, “Only you Air, only you.”

Luni nods as she adds, “Yeah, only you would think hanging around Nala the grouch would be more relaxing than resting in an infirmary bed.”

Blushing, my smile half contorts, because I feel mildly put-out, but only barely. I can’t help laughing as I eventually agree that I’m an odd duck. Still, I plead, “If you two aren’t too hurt to move around, please come with? I don’t want to be apart any longer.”

Before they can respond, Kagired, Aliased Sponge, calls out, “Help yourselves out at your own pace, but keep the place clean. I’m going hunting for lunch.”